


Make Damn Sure

by messy_chestnut



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3692292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messy_chestnut/pseuds/messy_chestnut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They weren't perfect, but they fought hard to get where they are, and they weren't gonna let no damn apocalypse end that. Bethyl ZA AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**  
\---  
"If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life" - Pablo Neruda  
\---

_Calm down._

 

Calm down and breathe.

 

Inhale through the nose, and exhale through the mouth.

 

Slowly. Quietly. Don’t let them hear you.

 

It was one of the few things his no-good father had taught him when he was a boy, but the voice inside his head sounds just like his wife. It wasn’t always like that; he’d grown up with the harsh words of his old man’s taunts and insults constantly bouncing around in his head, but now the only voice he hears is his wife and she’s telling him what he needed to do in order to get away from those freaks.

 

From his vantage point crouched low behind the first big ass shrub he’d ran across, he watched as the two… things… feasted on the doe he had spent all morning tracking. If he wasn’t scared for his life, he would’ve been more pissed that he lost his game. He could see the neon green fletching of one of his arrows sticking out the chest of one of the freaks, and he knows that no man should have been able to stay up and function with that kind of injury.

 

He had been in the middle of packing up his camp and heading home when he heard the loud shuffle of leaves behind him, and while he’s never going to admit it, he damn near had a heart attack at the sight of the two grown men covered in blood who were quickly lumbering towards him. He had warned them to stop where they were, but their only response was a mix of snarls and snapping jaws. He managed to get around them, but now he was too far away from his truck; he was too far away from his family.

 

Fuck, he needs to get back home.

 

The minutes continued to pass slowly as he kept watch of the two freaks tearing into the doe. He could spot his bow where he had left it on top off all of his gear and he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave without it. It lay next to the doe’s head, right by the bed of his truck. Without his bow the only weapon he had on him was his hunting knife, but he was willing to wager that he could take both geeks out if he moved fast enough.

 

_Do or die time._

 

With one last deep, calming breath he stood from his hiding spot and slowly approached. The freaks were too preoccupied with their feast, so they didn’t notice the the flash of his knife as he thrust it through the crown of the closer geek’s head.

 

The feel of bone splintering beneath the spine of his blade and the spray of blood hit him simultaneously. He doesn’t notice it at the time, but later he’ll recall how the blood that hits him didn’t feel as hot as it should’ve been (but by then he’ll have put two and two together).

 

The force of impact shoots up his arm as the body immediately crumples like a ragdoll and becomes still; the other freak looks up at him with a snarl and a mouth full of torn flesh and sinew. Its face makes him recoil with disgust: waxy pale skin with a grey tint to it and eyes seemingly shrunken into the skull are something straight out of a horror movie, and he barely manages to rip the blade out of the first monster’s skull before having to take a step back as the other lunges at him.

 

He sidesteps and evades like a bullfighter and is able to slash at the back of its neck just as he felt its blue-tinged fingers grab at the fabric of his shirt. Like its companion, this freak falls heavily onto the ground, but unlike the other one, it continues to groan and work its jaws.

 

He steps over the paralyzed monster and grabs his bow before throwing his pack into the cab of his truck, not bothering to finish packing the rest of his stuff.

 

His biggest priority now is finding his family.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**  
\---

“The itsy bitsy spider climbed out the waterspout…”

 

She glanced quickly at her boy from the rear view mirror, enjoying the sight of him moving his little fingers and singing along to the nursery rhyme. It was the third time in a row they played the song, but it was his current favorite and she would listen it a dozen more times if it meant he would laugh every time. 

 

“... Out came the sun and dried up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again.”

 

"Again, Mama! Play it again!" He exclaims just as the opening lyrics of the next song began.

 

"Of course, baby. You sure do like that song, don't you?" She asked before pressing the back button on the CD player.

 

"Uh huh. I like spiders a lot. Just like Uncle Shawn."

 

Her son’s hero worship of his uncle was no secret, but it was becoming a nightmare for her ever since Shawn showed him the pet tarantula he recently bought. Now it was all about that particular kind of creepy crawly and how much Abel liked them. 

 

The weekend they had spent at Shawn's home in Lawrenceville had been filled with playing (both with and without the furry spider), and Beth could already see the effects taking a toll on him. The little eye bags he always got when he was tired had started forming, and the way he slightly slurred when he spoke reminded her of a sleepy little drunk.

 

Abel had just turned three two weeks ago and Uncle Shawn had invited them over in order to finally give the boy his 'big birthday surprise', and boy did Shawn ever deliver. The moment they turned the corner to her brother’s block, Abel was practically clawing at his seat belt for freedom. Shawn was just as bad; he had been waiting on the sidewalk and the two boys were inside the house before she could even get out of the driver’s seat.

 

Beth had followed behind them with their overnight bags, but she dropped everything at the front door and ran when she heard her son shrieking.

 

“Momma LOOK!” Abel screamed, both he and his uncle were standing by the sliding door leading to the backyard, and the toddler was eagerly pointing to the miniature replica baseball diamond now adorning Shawn’s back lawn.

 

Abel's love for the sport was another thing he learned from his beloved uncle, and Beth supposed it was only natural since Shawn did nothing but give him baseball-themed gifts from the moment he found out that she was going to have a boy. 

 

Shawn was the short-stop for the Gwinnett Braves Triple-A minor league team, just one step away from making it to the major league, and he had told her that it was his familial responsibility to teach her son about the great American pastime. Beth rememberedthe many times when she would leave a then-infant Abel with him to babysit during the minor league off-season and they would be planted on his couch watching the playoffs. 

 

“Ya really outdid yourself this time, Shawn.” She told her brother as Abel took off and ran around the bases. 

 

“That boy is gonna be a shortstop just like his uncle, Bethy.” 

 

The rest of the weekend had been spent watching her son and brother practice with Abel’s plastic bat and whiffle ball and trying to sneak in moments to either feed her two athletes or reapply sunblock on the toddler. Her little boy was just as blond and fair skinned as she was, but he had his daddy’s eyes and temper.

 

And as she had feared, it had been an ordeal trying to separate the two of them when Sunday afternoon rolled around and that temper reared its ugly head. It always was tough leaving after a weekend of fun, but it was exponentially harder now that Abel had his own personal baseball field.

 

“I think you’re gonna have to adopt him.” Beth said with a huff as she and Shawn watched Abel throw a tantrum right there on the front yard. The toddler was flopping around on the grass, arms and legs thrashing as he screamed how much he didn’t want to leave.

 

“I would if his daddy would let me.” Shawn teased. They both knew that her husband would never let another man raise his son.

 

They let Abel cry for a minute more before Beth reminded him that his daddy was waiting for them, and that he wouldn’t be able to watch him finish dressing whatever game he brought home if he finds out he wasn’t a good boy.

 

Beth was glad that even though Abel was quick to anger, he was also quick to reason. His tantrum ended soon enough and they were on the road after a hug and kiss goodbye from Shawn.

 

Now they were halfway through their drive back home, and Abel was driving her slowly insane with his new favorite nursery song. 

 

“Again, Mama!” The little boy trilled from his car seat and she acquiesced once more.

 

It was already late in the afternoon and Beth knew that it would be close to sunset by the time they got home. They had been caught in traffic near Snellville and the rest of the drive was filled with more cars than she was used to seeing on a late Sunday afternoon. Beth was positive that her husband would already be home; he always spent his weekends hunting at his usual spot in the Piedmont forest whenever she and their son went to visit her brother.

 

He probably already finished dressing whatever he brought home. Abel’s gonna throw another fit.

 

She slowed to a stop at the last intersection in downtown McDonough, and like a nightmare come to life, her brother-in-law appears at the corner of the crosswalk. He looks the same, for the most part. His clothes are wrinkled and he’s got a rough looking five o’clock shadow, and the knapsack dangling off of one of his shoulders looks like it’s been to hell and back. She’s quick to avert her eyes but she knows it’s too late. They’ve made eye contact and his cold blue eyes light up with recognition.

 

That same wolfish grin she had seen years ago appears on his face as he saunters over to her car, and she has no choice but to roll down her window. 

  
“Well lookie who ole’ Merle ran into.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this. Please let me know what you think :)


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**  
\---

The car behind her began to honk, breaking the staring contest she was locked in with her the grisly old bastard she unfortunately called her brother-in-law. He was leaning into the open window of the passenger side of her little car, and the traffic light had just turned green.

 

“Get in. We’re causing traffic.”

 

Beth wasn’t one to make assumptions about people she didn’t really know, but if she was the betting type she would’ve wagered that Merle had just got out of prison based on his haggard appearance and meager pack. It wouldn’t surprise her if he did, Merle was a regular visitor at several correctional facilities across the state, but he was also a drifter.

 

The last she heard from him, he had been booked in a small town jail at the Georgia-Alabama border for disturbing the peace. That was over two years ago now, and it was the last time Daryl had gone to bail him out. She remembers that night especially well because it had been Daryl’s first night taking care of Abel by himself, and she had been so mad when he had called to say he had to bring the baby back to her so he could go and bail his brother out.

 

“S’prised you’d give me a hitch.” Merle mumbles as he climbed into her hatchback. The car was a gift from her parents when she graduated high school, and even though it was pre-owned it had never let her down.

 

“Yeah, well today is the Lord’s day. Just bein’ a good samaritan.”

 

She doesn’t look him in the eye when she speaks to him, she never liked making eye contact with him, not four years ago and certainly not now, but she knows that the sarcasm in her voice isn’t lost on him. He doesn’t offer a response, just a little grunt of acknowledgement.

 

Merle lets out another grunt when his seat abruptly lurched forward, and he turns around to find a tow-headed little boy staring at him with a frown.

 

His baby brother’s boy.

 

Abel.

 

He remembers Daryl mentioning his name the last time they spoke. He’d been so pissed when he came to bail him out of the jailhouse of that podunk little town, saying how he just fucked up his chance to make things right.

 

_“Can’t do this no more, Merle.”_

_They were walking out of the small jailhouse in the middle of the night: Merle, still coasting on  his high, and Daryl, hands in his pockets and trying (poorly) to hide his anger._

_“Hmm?”_

_“Can’t come and clean up yer mess no more. I gotta do right by Beth and Abel. Can’t do that when I’m always lookin’ after ya.”_

_That cut straight through Merle’s high and he felt his blood instantly boil._

_“‘Lookin’ after me’?? Now ya listen’ here ya little punk bitch. Who took care’ya after Mama died? The old man? Hell nah, that was me. Now ya think ya can leave yer kin behind because some bitch is givin’ ya the time of day ‘gain?”_

_He had gotten into Daryl’s face and was ready to brawl but was surprised when his baby brother just shook his head and walked away._

 

Merle never thought he would see the day that Daryl would leave him behind, but the boy was true to his word and never responded to any of his phone calls from the Alabama prison he’d been locked up in for the last two years.

 

Now here he was, sitting in a little blue car with his brother’s son and baby mama, so he guessed that Daryl was able to make things right.

 

“Yer name’s Abel?” he asks the boy.

 

The child looks at him with pure suspicion, and Merle couldn’t fault him. He probably looked like hell warmed over, and if the kid was anything like his mama then he would always be wary of him.

 

“Yeah,” was all the little shit said before giving the back of his seat another hard kick.

 

From the corner of his eye, Merle sees Beth smile at her son’s action.

 

They drive in uncomfortable silence down the country road, both adults wondering what Daryl will think when he sees his brother delivered to his doorstep like an unwanted surprise present. Beth taps her wedding band against the steering wheel, it was one of her little nervous ticks; if she hadn’t been driving then she would have been twisting the simple gold band around her finger while she thought of the possible scenarios that’ll play out once they reach home.

 

She knew that Daryl will definitely be a little angry at first, but he’d eventually be okay having his brother under their roof since she was the one who brought him along. He had told her that he was done with Merle and his disturbance on their lives, but she figured that it would be temporary and the older Dixon was only passing through. It also wouldn’t be bad for Abel to know his other uncle (so long as there was adult supervision, of course).

 

“Mama look at the cows.”

 

Beth glances at the field on her left. It was usually littered with small groups of grazing cattle, but today they were all standing together as one large herd. They all looked strangely vigilant and she could hear the sounds of their low bellowing moos even through the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” playing on loop.

 

They’re frightened.

 

She remembers seeing the cows back at the farm act like this whenever there was a coyote nearby. It had always been the signal for her daddy and Otis to take their shotguns and go looking for the interlopers.

 

Suddenly the cattle herd began to run. Beth was so distracted at the sight she didn’t see the pothole in the middle of the road and drove straight into it. The front tire burst with a muffled pop and Abel shrieked in fright as she jerked the car to a halt.

 

“God damn blondie, ya blind or somethin’?!” Merle exclaims, rubbing his head from where it smacked hard against the dashboard.

 

Beth pointedly ignores him in favor of unbuckling her seatbelt with a sigh and preparing to change her tire. Daryl had taught her a while back but she’d never had to do it before today.

 

“Ya really gonna change the tire all by yerself, blondie?” Merle asks as he leans against the side of the car, watching as she pulled out the spare tire and floor jack from the trunk.  It was one of the perks of being married to a mechanic: she had all the basic tools in her trunk to at least get her car to the nearest garage.

 

“I could, but a gentleman would at least offer to help.”

 

Merle can’t remember if she’s always had such a sharp tongue but it continues to catch him off guard nonetheless. He snorts at the little spitfire she’s become before rolling up his sleeves and helping her change the busted tire. They work together quickly and efficiently, surprising both of them.

 

Just as they were almost done, Beth heard Abel start whimpering from inside the car and left  Merle to finish tightening the lug nuts onto the spare tire. She knows that her son is exhausted so she unbuckles him from his carseat and snuggles him in her arms. Abel responds  immediately and wraps his arms and legs around her, hanging on like a baby spidermonkey while burying his face into the side of her neck.

 

Merle grunts at the sight of the mother and child.

 

“Ya makin’ him soft with all that coddlin’.”

 

She stops her swaying and humming at his words and feels herself grip her boy tighter as she glares at the older man.

 

“He’s a baby and he’s tired, Merle.”

 

“He’s a Dixon, an’ Dixons don’t cry.’Specially don’t cry just ‘cause ya tired.”

 

She swears that she’d club him with the tire iron if she wasn’t holding Abel, and she settles for walking away from him. She’s able to calm her son down and he’s falls asleep the moment she buckles him back into his car seat.

 

Beth waits for Merle to finish putting everything away, and as soon as they pull back onto the road, she breaks the silence.

 

“Ya best remember that my boy was born a Greene. He ain’t ever gonna be like what you say Dixons are, not if Daryl and I can help it.”

 

Her voice is quiet and soft, but even a thick-headed man like Merle can hear the steel behind her words.

 

\---

 

The sun had already set by the time they arrive back to their small house in Barnesville, and Beth immediately notices that Daryl’s truck isn’t in the driveway. Abel is still asleep so she brings him to bed before she attempts to call Daryl. She’s learned to not call him when he goes out hunting because it’s an exercise in futility, but he should’ve been home by now and he should expect her to bombard him with worried phone calls.

 

The line goes straight to the automated voicemail and she quietly swears at her husband for letting his phone run out of battery. Again.

 

She tries a few more times even though she knew it was essentially useless, and when she gets his voicemail a third time in a row she finally gives up and decides to tidy up the house.

 

“So where’s Darlene?” Merle asks, and Beth sees that he has made himself cozy on the couch in their living room.

 

“I don’t know. He went hunting yesterday but he’s supposed to be home by now.”

 

Merle can see the worry on the blonde’s face in the way her brows come together and crinkle and in the way her face pinched; he ignores the envy that flares deep in his gut because he’s never had anyone worry for him like that.

 

While Beth goes off to unpack her overnight bags, Merle finds himself poking around the small home. It was cleaner than any other place he’s ever stayed at before, and he chuckles at the idea of his baby brother vacuuming and dusting like a properly neutered husband.

 

The walls of the hallway and living room were painted a pale sunny yellow, and there are framed photos hanging on the walls and displayed on the fireplace mantle; some are of people he doesn’t know, but most of them feature Daryl and his family.

 

Beth and Abel’s smiles are wide and identical, and Daryl’s got a thin but genuine tilt to his lips, and Merle swears that it’s the first smile he’s seen on his baby brother’s face in decades. There’s a small pile of toys on the coffee table and Merle pulls out a small action figure from between the cushions of the couch where it had been poking him in the ass.

 

He sees the series of small lines on the wall next to the front door and for some reason he knew right away that each lined represented Abel’s height over the years.

 

No one ever cared about how much Merle or Daryl had grown when they were boys.

 

Christ almighty, his baby brother was really living a different life now. No more wandering around from town to town. No more wild nights of getting lit and raising hell. Daryl was a bonafide family man now: he had a kid who cried too much and a pretty little wife who probably never gave him any.

 

Merle hadn’t said a word when he caught sight of the thin gold band on Beth’s ring finger earlier while she was tapping it on the steering wheel (right before she drove into that pothole like a dumbass). He couldn’t believe that Daryl had actually gone and married the girl he’d knocked up, but Merle was not completely blind to the emotions of the heart; he had known how much his brother missed the girl all those years ago before he went crawling back for her forgiveness.

 

He can hear Beth humming some sweet tune in the kitchen, so he drowns it out by turning on the tv. Television was definitely something he missed while he was locked up. The past two years were probably the most stressful in his life, though he would rather die than admit it.

 

The St. Clair Correctional Facility in Alabama was by far the worst prison he’d ever been in, and considering he was a sort of connoisseur in all things prison related, it was saying a lot. He’d seen at least a dozen shankings in the two years he was there, and he’d found himself on the wrong end of an improvised magazine shank a time or two. He had survived mainly by ingratiating himself to the handful of corrupt correctional officers and joining up with the other drug traffickers.

 

Merle had never been more relieved to be released from the big house than when he was the week before. After he got out, he had immediately made his way east on I-20 back to Atlanta.

 

Back to Daryl.

 

Of course he hadn’t been sure if his baby brother would still be in Barnesville, but it had been his only lead. It was blind luck that he was on that street corner the moment Beth had rolled up.

 

Despite the years, he recognized her the moment their eyes met. She looked almost exactly like the same girl who had shown up at his brother’s doorstep, nervously announcing that she was pregnant. Same long, light blonde hair; same big blue eyes. She’s older, of course, but she was still too pretty for any Dixon to have, even sweet little Daryl.

 

And the kid looks almost exactly like Beth; the only bit of his brother he saw in the boy are his eyes. And even though he snarked at her earlier when she was cuddling the kid he knew that mama’s boy personality came from Daryl, too. It’s what had made him a prime target for their bastard father all those years ago.

 

All of his reminiscing is cut short by a noise blasting from the television.

 

The emergency alert service interrupted the evening game show Merle wasn't paying attention to, and Beth was drawn into the living room by the deafening sound. She poked her head into the living room to see what was going on, and together they watched as the words ‘Civil Danger Warning’ scrolled across the screen. The automated recording began to play and Merle saw the way Beth’s spine stiffened with fear.

  
_“The following message is transmitted at the request of the Georgia Emergency Management Agency…”_

 


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

\---

 

The house is completely silent as Beth sits alone at the dining table.

 

She doesn’t exactly know how long she’s been sitting there, the anxiety bubbling deep in her chest while she stares blankly at the greeting cards Abel had made that were proudly displayed on their refrigerator doors.

 

She and Daryl had had long discussions about enrolling their son in preschool at the beginning of the year when Beth had decided that she wanted to go back to school and finish up her degree.

 

She had been nervous at first since Abel was still so young, but he had taken to school like a duck to water and had made friends within his first week. The preschool was located on the Gordon State College campus, so Beth was able to take Abel with her in the mornings and Daryl would come pick to him up after work on the days she was on campus all day.

 

One of the cards that hung on the refrigerator was Abel's first handmade Father's Day card to Daryl; it was a standard-sized sheet of yellow construction paper decorated with bits of sequins, buttons, and glitter glue. The pre-printed greeting was sloppily colored in with green and blue crayon, and beneath it were the crudely drawn figures of Daryl and Abel standing victoriously over various dead animals.

 

His teachers had been a bit concerned when they saw her son's card, and Beth had to explain to them that her husband was an avid hunter and Abel enjoyed helping him dress all the game. She remembers the way Daryl’s eyes had lit up when Abel presented the card to him, his lips quirking up and turning into that sweet little smile he reserved for them while they listened to their son explain everything on the card.

 

"I colored it green and blue 'cause you said they your fave'rite colors, Daddy. And thas me and you and all the aminals we catched."

 

Neither she nor Daryl had been able to make heads or tails of what animal each little brown blob represented, but they had nodded along and Daryl gave Abel a hug and a sincere thank you for the card. They had taped it up on the refrigerator next to the card Abel had made for her for Mother’s day, and neither had been moved in the month since the holiday.

 

He's not going to preschool anymore, Beth thought resolutely as she remembered the emergency broadcast warning everyone about some fast moving virus spreading throughout the state.   


Beth doesn’t remember ever seeing the EAS warn about an infectious disease before, even when there was that huge bird flu scare all those years ago. Her mama had been so worried over it back then, and Beth can now relate to the fear of having her baby come in contact with something deadly and unknown and being completely unable to stop it.

 

She glances at the small clock that hung on the wall in their kitchen and saw that it was close to ten at night. With the long summer days, sunsets came at around eight thirty every evening; Abel’s bedtime was around the same time, so after a few bedtime stories and a round of goodnight kisses, Beth and Daryl were usually able to spend a few hours relaxing. Or not, depending on the mood.

 

But not tonight.

 

Tonight is just worry on top of worry and it’s to the point where Beth doesn’t know where one started and the other ended.

 

Did Daryl get in some kind of accident over the weekend?

 

Or did he catch whatever bug was going around and was laid out in one of the hospitals outside of Barnesville?

 

If it was the latter, then the hospital should have notified her right away, right?

 

Beth isn't the type of wife who needed to know every move her husband made (hell, Daryl was almost programmed on a routine of work-home-hunting) but the anxiety she felt blooming from her chest left her with an ice-cold dread that seeped through her veins.

 

She had heard Merle muttering and scuffling around in the living room earlier before the front door opened and shut quickly, signaling that he had finally had enough of the stifling silence and took off. It doesn’t matter that the government just sent out a statewide warning against going out unnecessarily, Merle is probably like Daryl, and Daryl sought out fresh air and the great outdoors whenever something got to be too much for him.

 

Maybe that was another characteristic all Dixon men shared.

 

Daryl’s love for the outdoors was one of the first things she learned about him when she had first started seeing him. Despite the car grease that stained the coveralls he wore every day, there was always the underlying scent of the sun and woods on his skin. He used to tease and say that it was her nice way of saying that he stank, but she never once thought that the blend of soap, cigarette smoke, the woods, and Daryl's own unique scent was anything less than an aphrodisiac to her.

 

She had seen his crossbow and small collection of hunting knives in his living room the first time she had come over to his apartment, and he was always able to readily provide her with cottontails and swamp rabbits whenever she felt like making her mama’s traditional Brunswick stew. Of course Beth suspected that his enthusiasm for going out and catching the rabbits laid more in his own craving for the stew rather than the thrill of the hunt.

 

And it was later, much later, in their relationship when he told her about how the woods became his refuge out of necessity after his mama died.

 

His Uncle Jess had taught him how to track when he was very young, and he had been the one to give Daryl his first crossbow on his sixth birthday. Where Will Dixon would get lit and use his kids as his personal punching bags, Uncle Jess would take the two boys out, especially after their house burned down, and taught them how to survive off the land. And when Daryl got older, it was all too easy for him to escape into the woods that surrounded the family trailer and avoid another lash to the back.

 

Beth glances at the small clock again and sighs. It was now four minutes past ten and she’s completely exhausted, but she wanted to stay up and wait for Daryl to arrive home.

 

She makes her way out of the kitchen and down the short hallway to check up on Abel.

 

Their home isn’t anything grand, a moderate sized master bedroom and two smaller rooms along with two full baths. They had a good sized living room and the combination kitchen and dining area led to their small backyard and the separate garage that they converted to Daryl’s workshop.

 

The house was the same home Beth had been renting with two roommates when she first started college at Gordon State, and it was place where she brought Abel home to when he was born. His bedroom, her old room, was furnished with her old twin-sized bed and nightstand with the added baseball decor that Shawn had been insistent on buying. And even though Abel was neater than the average toddler, Beth still had to step over the errant matchbox cars that were scattered around when she quietly enters the room.

 

Abel is still in a deep sleep, he’s always been a heavy sleeper and a bed hog, so the sight of him sprawled like a starfish on his stomach was nothing out of the ordinary. She had opened the window earlier to let in some of the cooler night time air, but the room was still uncomfortably warm so Abel slept in just his underwear. Just like Daryl was prone to doing during the summertime.

 

She perches herself onto the edge of his bed and gently swipes his sweat-damp hair away from his forehead before kissing him goodnight.

 

“I love you, baby.”

 

Beth finds herself pacing in the hallway a few minutes later, clutching her phone tightly to her ear as she calls her husband one last time. The call goes straight to voicemail once again, and this time she decides to leave a message.

 

“Hey Daryl, it’s me again. I don’t know if you’re gonna hear this, but I’m worried. You haven’t texted or called me back, and I don’t know if you’re okay or lyin’ in a ditch somewhere. There’s this new superbug that’s makin’ it’s rounds around the state and I can’t lie, it’s got me real scared. There was an emergency broadcast for it and everythin’ and I’m prayin’ that you haven’t caught it."

 

Beth knew she was rambling at that point, but she feels the ball of nerves in her gut begin to unravel the more she talked it out.

 

“If you are laid up in a hospital somewhere, I’m gonna kick your ass for lettin’ your phone die before you could call me. What’ll your brother say about you then, huh? He’ll probably say you aren’t livin’ up to the Dixon name for havin’ a wife who nagged at you, but you know you deserve it at this point.

 

And yeah, Merle is here with us. I saw him hitchin’ for a ride to town and I couldn’t just drive off, especially since he recognized me. I know, you probably think I should’ve, but Merle seemed pretty eager to see you."

 

She lets out a yawn as she rubs her eyes with the heel of her hand. Their bedroom is a mess, it always was when Daryl was left alone; it was as if he automatically reverts back to his grubby bachelor ways the moment she and Abel leave, but at that moment Beth doesn't care that he had left his laundry piled on the foot of their bed because she fully planned on wearing his shirt to sleep.

 

“I’m heading to bed now… I pray that you’re safe wherever you are. I love you and I hope you’ll be here when I wake up.”

 

\---

 

Merle had to leave his brother's little house. It had felt like every molecule of air had been sucked out of the living room the second the emergency alert ended, and he saw the way Beth's back went rigid with fright before she walked back into the kitchen and slumped onto a dining chair.

 

She looked like she was in some kind of shock, staring at a random spot on the wall and not moving a muscle. Merle thought that she had taken the alert a little too seriously, and as the minutes passed and the nightly news came on, all the newscasters did was talk about the new virus spreading around.

 

He tried to watch the pretty little red-headed news reporter, but the bullshit fearmongering annoyed him so he shut the tv off with a huff. His old man always said that the government loved to scare the people into submission and maybe he’d been right.

 

He propped his feet onto the little wooden coffee table in front of the couch, not giving a damn that his muddy boots would probably dirty it up and continued to watch Beth as she remained sitting stiffly in her seat. Her face was becoming more and more gaunt as the minutes passed, and he was sure that she was thinking up a hundred nightmare scenarios all involving his brother.

 

How did Daryl live with such a jittery little woman? Didn’t she know that Daryl was a tough piece of shit? He’d personally made sure of it after their mama died and they were left to the mercy of their father. Just because Daryl didn’t come straight home like a well trained dog didn’t mean that he was dead in a ditch somewhere.

 

And if Merle was a better man he would've reassured her that Daryl was just fine, but he wasn't, so he left instead.

 

Merle looks around the quiet neighborhood and sneers at how ridiculously suburban it all seemed. The front yard looks like it came straight out of a goddamn magazine with its neatly trimmed grass and flowers lining the concrete pathway from the sidewalk all the way up to the front door.

 

The house is on the corner of the block, and Merle is able to get a better view of it from his spot under the street light. There isn’t anything particularly awe-inspiring about the small  home: the wood cladding that surrounded the exterior was painted white and the window shutters green, but Merle can see the care and maintenance that Beth and Daryl had put into their home. He remembers being assaulted by the fragrant aroma of the jasmine flowers that grew on the simple portico when they had arrived earlier in the evening, and that scent wafted out to him as he made his way down the street.

 

All the other houses are similarly well maintained, and none of them looked remotely similar to  the shithole shack he had grown up in. There were no dead brown lawns surrounded by rusty chainlink fences, no piles of spare car parts littering the yards, and definitely no sounds of yelling and fists meeting flesh emanating from the other houses.

 

It’s the middle of summer so it’s still hot as balls even though it’s almost eleven at night, and the only sounds to be heard are that of cicadas and frogs. Merle is about five blocks away from his brother’s house when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck go up at the sound of the frightened shriek that rips through the quiet night.

 

Guess suburbia ain’t all that great after all, he thinks.

 

Suddenly the door of the house on his left bursts open and a girl comes tearing through. She’s young, around Beth’s age, and has her right arm cradled to her chest and it’s only when she gets closer does Merle notice that it’s covered in blood. She shoves past him without a care and continues to run like a bat out of hell, not giving a damn to the fact that she’s barefoot and in her pajamas.

 

The girl is already on the next block down when Merle hears a loud guttural moan. The source of the sound is a boy half his age, dressed in only his boxers and covered in blood, but the source of the blood isn’t from a flesh wound like that girl. No, the boy has blood dribbling down from his open mouth like a waterfall: his chin, neck, and chest absolutely covered in the viscous fluid.

 

The kid lumbers toward him slowly and stiffly but with purpose.

 

“What the fuck…?”

 

Merle already has his pocket knife brandished and ready in his hand by the time the bloodied boy is within arm’s length and Merle is quick to threaten him.

 

“Ya stay outta my way, ya sonofa bitch. Ya don’t wanna mess with ol’ Merle.”

 

He gets no response other than another low groan, and Merle feels a sliver of fear burn down his spine when he meets the boy’s eyes. There are dark spots surrounding his pupils and they look odd… deflated, but its the fully dilated pupils and the milky blue haze that seem to blanket them that really scare Merle; he’d only ever seen those eyes on dead men.

 

The kid is snarling and snapping his jaws at him like a rabid dog as he continues to approach, and Merle soon feels cool fingers grasp at his shirt. He pulls his body away from his assailant and slashes quickly with his knife.

 

The stranger gives no reaction as the blade slices through his bare chest, instead he continues his hold on Merle’s shirt and pulls the older man closer to his open mouth. Merle quickly goes for the boy’s knee, slamming his heavy boot onto the inner side of the joint and backing up as the kid crumples heavily to the ground.

 

The bones of his left leg are gruesomely distorted at the joint, and Merle sees the unnaturally slow flow of blood seep out from the guy’s chest wound. Merle is rooted to where he stands, watching in disbelief as that boy, that freak, continues to struggle to get to him despite being bloody and battered.

 

Whatever fleeting thoughts he had of leaving and getting the hell out of dodge earlier has left him when he jogs back to Daryl’s place.

 

 _What the fuck is going on?_ It’s the question that plays on loop in his mind as he mentally replays what’s happened.

 

Some girl had come racing out of her house, looking like she got attacked by a rabid animal. Some boy had come out of the same house, looking like he was that rabid animal.

That same boy looked like something out of a horror movie and doesn’t make a peep when he cut him and dislocates his knees.

 

It all sounds crazy, but the few drops of blood on his shirt confirm what had just happened.

 

Daryl and Beth’s house is all dark by the time Merle gets back. The front door is locked, but Merle is quick to pick the lock and he slumps heavily against the door once he’s inside. His heart feels like it’s trying to pound its way out of his chest, and he’s running high on adrenaline.

 

_What the fuck is going on?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long delay in between chapters. Writer's blocks sucks, but I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Please tell me what you thought :)


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